Salvage
by Candle Beck
Summary: Slash, SethRyan. Seth forgets his iPod, and requires entertainment.


Title: Salvage

Author: Candle Beck

Email: Seth/Ryan

Rating: PG

Salvage

By Candle Beck

It's mid-afternoon, a Saturday, when Seth calls Ryan. Ryan is still in his pajama pants and wife-beater, having made two trips to the kitchen and one to Seth's room to borrow the new baseball game, and other than that sticking to a strict radius of the bed, the floor in front of the bed, and the bathroom.

He lies down and opens his phone. "Yeah?"

Seth sighs loudly. "Situation, dude."

Ryan thinks for a minute, why isn't Seth here hanging out, and then remembers. Sailing lessons. Little kids. Seth overteaching everything, salt crackling in his hair.

"Are you still at the dock?" Ryan asks.

Seth makes an affirmative-sounding noise. "Hence, situation. I was gonna walk back, but I forgot my iPod."

"You were gonna walk?"

"Yes."

"That's interesting." Ryan punches a pillow into shape under his head, settles in more securely with his legs all the way on the bed. "Somebody steal your skateboard?"

"Kindly knock on wood when you say that, my friend. And, no. My equilibrium's shot. It's been like this all week. The ability to balance is a thing of the past." Seth pauses. "I think I've got an inner ear infection."

Ryan laughs a little bit, and rests his forearm on top of his eyes, liking that the room is dim and warmed from the outside, familiar enough by now to count. "What are you, eight years old?"

"At heart, Ryan, only at heart."

"Anyway," Ryan says, yawning. "You rang?"

"Yes, yes." Ryan can see him nodding, bobbing his head forward slightly the way he does. "The iPod, forgotten, remember?" Ryan grunts. "So I can't walk all the way home with it, like, quiet. It's just unnatural."

"People definitely survive without portable music, Seth."

"I am not people, Ryan." Ryan can hear him walking, the tidal rush of traffic behind his voice, his breath catching slightly. "I had a Playskool tape deck when I was four years old that went with me everywhere. Have I shown you my box of broken Discmans? It's really something. First generation iPod, came out when we were thirteen, with the plastic wheel and the clicky buttons? Mine still works. I have credibility here, I go way back. Never been without it."

"Okay. That's kinda intense." It's true, though, Seth does have a playlist for every day, white headphones and the eight-CD changer in the car.

In fact, Ryan's got some of Seth's music playing in the background right now, the Playstation muted, something deep and indie taking up the space, acoustic guitars and heavy drumbeats. He wonders if Seth can hear it. Maybe if he puts the phone up to the speaker, Seth will get his fix and wander home happily.

But it's not like Ryan's got anything better to do than talk to Seth on the phone. It's hard to interrupt nothing.

"It is intense, it is seriously intense. And therein lay the horns of the dilemma."

"Sure."

"Don't worry, though. I've got a solution."

"Oh, good." Ryan fiddles with the hem of his shirt, eyes open and watching the twist and melt of the blue pool light across the ceiling. "Don't scare me like that again."

"Let's leave the sarcasm to me, all right? You've got your thing you do. Which works better, anyways."

"Thanks," Ryan says, smirking.

"Don't deny, man. Embrace it."

"Are you being weirder today than normal, or is it just me?"

"It's probably just you. But hey, you wanna hear my solution?"

Ryan scratches his stomach, and pulls his shirt down to feel it snap back. "Dude. Is your solution to make me talk to you to keep you entertained while you walk home?"

There's a long pause, and then Seth says like his heart is broken, "You guessed."

"You're really not subtle, man."

"So I'm told, yeah." Seth says something to someone, he's buying gum, Ryan thinks. Thanking the cashier for his change, because spoiled Newport brat or not, he was definitely raised with manners. Or at least, manners to those who are strangers. "You think you can spare the time?"

"I'll squeeze it in."

"Excellent. So what're you doing?" It's been awhile since Seth cared, a long time since Seth was either there everywhere Ryan went or waiting back at the house for him to come home. They're more like real brothers, with separate lives and stuff that doesn't in any way concern the other. Real brothers now, not like whatever they were at the beginning.

Ryan scowls, rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand. No need for that now, it's Saturday, there are better things to think about. "I'm talking to you. Before, I was playing the new game, which is not as good as you said it was, but still pretty good. In a little while, I'm gonna make a sandwich." He takes inventory. "That's about it."

"That was good. It was. Comprehensive."

"I try, man." Ryan rolls over so he can see the kitchen's picture window. Kirsten's drinking something out of a coffee mug at the counter, something sparkling around her wrist. Ryan sees her steadying the mug with her free hand, and looks away.

"Where are you?"

Seth's breathing is less even now, like he's walking uphill. Ryan is thinking about the dreams he's been having lately, a decent night's sleep just an unproven theory, and Seth breathing heavily, grinning, twisting his fingers in Ryan's hair. Ryan pushes his knuckles into his forehead to make that go away, and Seth takes his time saying everything, which is unusual for him. "I. Am making very good time. I am almost to. The post office."

"You are making good time."

"Well, I'm trying to avoid distractions, is what I'm trying to do. Eyes front and all that. I didn't even _look_ at the comic book store." Seth sounds very proud.

"Nice." Ryan never had the time or inclination for comic books before he started living here. But Seth and the make-believe world that Seth occupied before Ryan were hard to deny. Everything about Seth is hard to deny.

"There was this car? And it had, like, Matchbox cars glued all over it. Like, all over, the doors and the hood and everything. Except not on the windshield, because that would be super dangerous."

"Really? That's cool. Do you think if I come meet you I'll still get to see it?"

"Oh, it's not here. It was on the television last night. TLC. That show about weird cars."

Ryan has to laugh, shifting the phone away from his mouth. "So why'd you bring it up?"

"Because it was awesome, Ryan."

Ryan thinks about yellow and black Matchbox cars on the sidewalk in front of their house back in Chino. A city built of phone books and plastic cups, clean pieces of trash and posterboard cut into long thin strips for roads. Theresa sitting cross-legged across from him, they were maybe nine years old and keeping an eye on the older kids playing hockey in the street, trying to be unobtrusive so their city wouldn't get kicked down.

Seth is humming his name, over and over again, ryanryanryanryan. The poolhouse is growing thick and hazy in the afternoon heat, sweat filming on Ryan's neck and chest, making him feel slick and impossible to catch. Ryan yawns again, listening to Seth say his name like that, thinking that this is what it must be like inside Seth's head, just a steady drone of noise.

"Ryanryanryan Ryan I miss my boat."

"Seth, that boat got you into nothing but trouble."

"That's true. That's very true. That boat was a terrible influence on me. Much more so than the juvenile delinquent with whom I spend all my time."

"You don't spend all that much time with me anymore." Ryan winces—he didn't mean to say that. It happens with Seth sometimes, he gets you talking and then you forget to think before you speak and then there's one more thing to regret.

"Ryan, I'm hurt," Seth says, sounding appropriately wounded. Ryan rolls his eyes. "You know I don't mean it. It's just life, man, it's the necessary complications of an existence exploited to its greatest heights. Or something. You wake up and you have certain plans for the day and certain best friends holding a prominent place in your mind, and then the next thing you know you're alone in the hallway and your best friend is temporal and not at his locker where he said he'd be after you got out of class. Really, what did you expect? I'm doing the best I can. You're not around when I am, so whose fault is that? It's us both. Both of us, I mean. Both of _ours_, I mean. And it's something I've accustomed myself to even though the accustoming kind of sucked, but I've got a million things left on my things-to-do list and you're never around when I'm around."

Seth falls quiet.

Ryan exhales carefully and stares up at the ceiling. He listens to Seth walking, the rhythmic clink of the metal pieces on Seth's bag. Ryan's default setting with Seth is attentive silence, the kind of silence Seth can't help but fill.

"It's the chicken and the egg, man," Seth tells him, sounding breathless and nervous. "Did you stop hanging out with me or did I stop hanging out with you?"

Ryan shakes his head, feeling pressure build at his temples, feeling sick to his stomach. "It wasn't like that."

"No, right, it was the life-complications thing, wasn't it? That sucks, dude. You can't fight that. Like, the forward progression of time? And people changing. Even if I used both hands, I couldn't stop that from happening."

"Look-"

Seth cuts him off. "I'm gonna start waking you up in the mornings."

Ryan blinks. "Excuse me?" A blurry image slips through his mind, Seth's back tight and curved, Seth's hair a disaster the way it is when he first gets up, Seth's skin warm and bare and sporting creases from the sheets. Ryan snaps his head to the side, get rid of that, can't be thinking about that.

"It's still time, Ryan, even if it's dark outside. So I'll come down a little early and wake you up. I'll bring you coffee. Maybe a bagel, if you're good. And we can do the whole reconnecting thing. Give our relationship the jumpstart it needs."

The corner of Ryan's mouth pulls up in a caustic smirk. "Did we turn into a middle-aged married couple while I wasn't paying attention?"

"Dude, don't mock me when I'm trying to salvage our friendship."

"Sorry." Ryan pauses. "You really think we need to be salvaged?"

"Signs point to yes, man." A siren goes by behind Seth's voice. Ryan can see him standing on a corner, watching the ambulance go by with his lips parted and his eyes glazed, because Seth has a tendency to be entranced by glowing spinny things like ambulance lights.

"But, understand," Seth continues. "The basic foundation is not the problem. The, the camaraderie, the affection, the fellowship of you and me, it remains invincible to all existing technology and weaponry. We've gotten everything all confused with everything else, but I'm not too worried. You're pretty good at simplifying. You're a simple sorta guy. Not, like, simple being dumb. Simple being simple. Easy. Uncomplicated. It's what I count on you for. That for which I count on you."

Seth trying to correct his grammar, midstream, is the sort of exercise in futility that makes Ryan's head ache. This whole conversation, this big reveal, Seth seems miles ahead of him, he's already got it all planned out.

"What we have to do," Seth says. "Is figure out the most important thing. Or, well. We don't have to figure it out. It's self-evident, is what it is. The most important thing is that you still want me around. And I still want you around. And that's all that matters, really.   
The other stuff, the stuff that gets in the way, it's just. Distractions."

Ryan rubs his face with his hand, tired and lost in Seth's train of thought. Contrary to popular belief, Ryan doesn't have some innate understanding of Seth that makes all this clear. But he hears an echo, 'and I still want you,' even though that's not what Seth actually said, it's out of context and misquoted and it doesn't matter if it makes Ryan feel lightheaded and hopeful like this.

"So we need, what? Like, blinders?" Ryan plays along, closing his eyes and sliding his hand under his shirt onto his stomach.

"Blinders and earplugs and a sensory-deprivation tank. A double-occupancy sensory-deprivation tank where we can just hang out and get back to where we should be."

"Where's that?"

"Back, Ryan, back like it was. We're the stars of this show, we just got off-track." Seth's breathing a bit heavier again, he's probably coming up the hill through their pretty neighborhood by the ocean. "We can't just be two guys who live in the same house anymore. Well, you don't actually live in the house. But you know what I mean. We're not roommates, we're best friends. It's an important distinction."

Ryan brushes his palm back and forth across his stomach in time to the music. "I'm not sure I'm totally clear on what you think we should do."

"We should be you and me again. For real." And there's some hitch in Seth's voice, some low rough tone that catches like lint on the edge of Ryan's mind.

"Seth?"

"For real, Ryan. Like how it was, but different, because time moved forward and things changed, but we can roll with that. The punches, or whatever. Live in the now. It's evolution, is what it is."

Ryan sits up. "Evolution?"

"Something that's new, but still the same at its heart. That's the goal, I think. Yeah?"

Ryan swallows, thinking about the dreams he's been having lately, the empty space in his life where Seth used to be, his knee jittering against Ryan's own, poking him until Ryan agreed to do something stupid, thinking about Seth early in the morning and on the floor beside him. Getting everything he's ever wanted did something unpleasant to Seth, but it's not like Ryan hasn't been through worse. It's not like Ryan doesn't still believe in redemption, which maybe means he's not that smart after all.

"What kind of new?" Ryan asks, his palms damp. There's a gap between the bottom of the shade and the top of the window, a bar of light thrown across Ryan's chest.

"Brand-new. Something nobody's ever even dreamed of."

"Seth," Ryan says, and then he appears, like magic, the door swinging open and Seth standing there with his cell phone held to his ear, his hair matted by sweat and salt water, a cautious grin on his face. Ryan's throat goes suddenly, starkly dry, because the sunlight is directly behind Seth and making him glow at the edges.

"Dude," Seth says, a split second break between his real-life voice and his phone voice. He realizes the redundancy and snaps his phone shut, Ryan following suit. "I was just gonna. I was gonna say. The thing where you saved my life? It meant a lot to me. Okay?"

Ryan stands up, stunned. "Okay," he says slowly, though he doesn't remember saving Seth's life, maybe it happened while he wasn't paying attention.

Seth runs a hand through his hair, making it stick up crazily from the back of his head. "I was walking home, a minute ago, and I wanted to run, because I wanted to see you face-to-face. It was weird."

Ryan's eyes get big, and he sees Seth's throat bob as he swallows. Seth's nervous, Ryan realizes, Seth's hands are shaking. "That is kinda weird."

Seth nods, eyes wide and earnest. "I think I had an epiphany." He hesitates, then closes the distance between them, stepping out of the sunlight into the shadows where Ryan is. Ryan is stuck in place and he can't believe this is happening, not Seth saying this stuff, not Seth a half a foot in front of him, not Seth reaching up and curling his hand around Ryan's arm, as hot as a brand.

"I think it's a good epiphany," Seth whispers. "What do you think, man?"

Ryan feels something important give way in his chest, and he's waiting for this to be misinterpreted, he's waiting for Seth to recant like Seth is so good at doing, but Seth just stares at him with all kinds of stuff writ in neon in his eyes, and Ryan is gone.

"I didn't," Ryan attempts, his throat closed up and the words almost squeaky. He clears his throat, tries again. "I didn't think you'd ever see."

Seth smiles at him, normal happy Seth smile, and he trails his hand up to Ryan's shoulder, the back of Ryan's neck. "I see it now. I just had to get home first."

And Ryan hooks both hands in Seth's belt, pulls him in and kisses him with everything he's got, everything Seth will allow him, and for once the world around them keeps quiet, for once they're left alone.

THE END


End file.
